


The Blood, the Rust, and the Sin

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Age Difference, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotions, F/M, Fear, Love, Pining, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-01-22 21:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18535867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Cate lost the only person that meant anything to her, and she’d be damned if she let him go.Charon is sworn to protect Cate throughout her search for her father.No one said anything about love.And yet...





	1. Death Without Dignity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon is reminded that despite it all, he is still only man underneath.

 

She was watching him.

Charon knew it. He felt tense under her gaze, almost as though she was waiting to strike. Her eyes searched him as she raised a beer bottle to her plump lips, taking a long sip, and Charon watched her throat bob as she gulped. Charon knew she could sense his uneasiness, and he felt curiosity stir in his chest. Who was this smoothskin, and why would she bother herself in The Underground? It wasn't often that humans found themselves in his neck of the woods, most of them couldn't be bothered with the likes of ghouls, not as though he could blame them. Ghouls weren't easy company.

Yet, the woman remained cross-legged at the opposing end of the bar from him, pretty and prim, relaxing on the dusty stool. She had a cigarette hanging from her lip, smoke streaming from the tip of it, swirling around her pink lips. She looked out of place in the midst of maimed ghouls, almost like one of those pin-up posters that Ahzrukhal liked to hang up. There was no doubt in Charon's mind that his boss would eat her up, the greasy fucker always seemed to love the pretty ones.

Hell, that man would fuck anything with two legs and pussy between them. Actually, scratch that, just two legs.

Without warning, the woman stood from her stool and strolled her way towards Charon. He felt his chest tighten as she approached, finding that she was even more beautiful up close, and damn if she didn't know it. She looked up at him, batting her doe eyes, her full lips quirking up at the ends and damn if it didn't almost make his knees go weak. He might have been a walking corpse and an expert killer, but underneath it all, he was still a man.

"Hey, big guy," she purred, voice light and soft, "I'm looking for-"

"Talk to Ahzrukhal." That's what he always said. Short and harsh.

Shock flashed across her face, and Charon almost felt smug at her reaction. His triumph didn't last long though, because she almost instantly returned to her charms, smiling sweetly, almost sickeningly.

"And who might that be?"

Charon pointed over her shoulder where his employer leaned on a bar, schmoozing a couple of customers. The woman turned, analyzing the man for a few seconds. She then turned back to Charon, sent the big ghoul a wink, and made her way over to where Ahzrukhal occupied himself.

Charon kept a watchful eye as the two talked, and he almost rolled his eyes when his employer grabbed at the woman's arm, pulling her closer to him. She only laughed though, pinching Ahzrukhal's cheek through a smile of dazzling white, stretching her long, pale legs. She leaned in, over the bar, and whispered something into the man's ear and kissed him on the cheek, much to the old ghoul's delight. Ahzrukhal smirked and said something Charon couldn't quite catch, but from the lusty look pouring from his employer's eyes, he could tell what sort of proposition the pretty stranger had made.

Ahzrukhal came out from behind the bar and the woman grabbed onto his arm. The woman turned to Charon, her pretty lips curving up into a smile, and he watched as the two disappeared from his line of sight. He knew what was happening, he’d seen it too many times to count. First, in his mother and the men who came to visit her, then in the patrons of Ahzrukhal's bar. Whores weren't unfamiliar to Charon, far from it in fact.

Life in the wastes is hard, and everyone wants a taste of something good, even if it’s a few empty minutes masked in layers of perfume and lacy fabric. Of course, it would be no different with this smoothskin, beauty was a fickle thing, she might as well profit off it now.

Charon decided to stop thinking of her then. What good would it do? She'd be gone soon, pockets a couple of hundred caps heavier, still as pretty as ever.

So, he did stop thinking about her, for about twenty minutes that is. She came out of the back, dress smoothed nicely against her legs, and she picked at her fingernails nervously. When he caught her eyes again he nearly flinched (which isn’t an easy thing to make Charon do). Her updo was slightly messier, blonde tendril’s flowing this way and that. Her lips were pinker, swollen too, and she worried the flesh between her teeth. She was watching him, searching him with those big, doe eyes. He inhaled slowly, staring at her right back.

A small frown appeared on the corners of her mouth, and she a finger up to her mouth, biting softly at the flesh. She looked worried, sad even, and curiosity began to bubble in the pit of Charon's chest. What did this smoothskin have to fret about?

It was only when she started to approach him did he begin to worry too. She had something lodged in her pale fist, a paper it looked like, but Charon could hardly focus on this as she approached. She stopped a few feet from him and Charon's heart beat faster.

She licked her lips and lifted her fist up, stretched her arm up to meet his face, and let the paper unravel before the giant ghoul. Charon scanned the paper, and when he realized what it was, he was actually thankful for his training, otherwise, he might have audibly gasped.

His contract. There, in the manicured hand of a prostitute.  
  
Had he really meant so little that Ahzrukhal would throw away his contract like that just to get his dick sucked?

She pulled it away from him, and he stared down at her, watching her face carefully. She looked embarrassed, flustered even, and Charon nearly scoffed. 'Let her be uncomfortable,' the ghoul thought, 'she owns a person now, I don't need fake pity.'

The woman began to speak, voice soft and sweet and exactly what Charon imagined. "I took- uh your ghoul buddy gave this to me, and I-“

“You little slut!”

Charon’s head shot up to find a seething Ahzrukhal with blood seeping down his face, a large gash having made itself home smack dab there on his forehead. Ahzrukhal was fuming, and the woman in front of Charon let out a small peep. Charon understood then, not a whore, a thief. Even worse, she stole him.

Ahzrukhal stormed towards them and Charon's programming took hold. Despite his disdain for this little thief, she held his contract, and he was sworn to protect her. Charon caught a glimpse of silver in Ahzrukhal's hand. A knife. Charon grabbed the woman by the shoulder a little rougher than he should have and pushed her behind him. He faced Ahzrukhal now, straightening his back to his full height. Ahzrukhal gulped, halting before Charon, and eyeing him strangely.

”Stand down Charon,” the old ghoul demanded, eyes flicking back and forth nervously. It made Charon want to smile. “This little cunt is a thief, and I’ll gut her like one.”

Charon shook his head, still holding his new employer behind his back with one arm. “No. You see, I don’t take orders from you anymore.”

Ahzrukhal's eyes went wide and Charon almost laughed at the true fear that crossed over the sleaze's face at that moment. Good.

Charon lifted up his gun.

He felt small fingers clinging to the shirt on his back, her nails digging into the curve of his back. Charon sucked in a shaky breath, looking Ahzrukhal right in his foggy, ruined eyes and saw the evil that lived there.

Charon shot him once. Then twice.

And he watched Ahzrukhal body drop to the floor, lifeless eyes wide and unseeing. Relief flooded through Charon.

Charon took a few deep breathes and turned to the woman, his new employer, who stood behind him, eyes wide and face pale, well paler.

”I- 'm so sorry, I didn’t realize-“

”Ahzrukhal was an evil man,” Charon interrupted, "but it doesn't matter anymore, he's dead and I serve you now, Mistress."

The girl's face turned beet red then, and she let out a little gasp. "No! No, no, no!" She shouted, and Charon was almost startled. The girl thrust her hand at him, his crumpled contract between her fingers. "I-, he had it on him when I was searching for caps," she began, "I didn't want to hurt him! I just needed some money, so that's all I was gonna take, I swear! But, I-I read it and, you're a slave?"

Charon gulped. He nodded.

"God!" She exclaimed, "That's horrible! Here, take it, you're free." She shoved his contract at him again, eyes wide and hopeful and he saw the color in them for the first time. The brilliant blue of them reminded him of someone he once knew, a long, long time ago.

"No."

She blinked at him, face full of shock, "W-Wha-?"

Charon began to notice the shocked faces around the bar, ghouls gaping at Charon's deed. They whispered fiercely and Charon needed out needed fresh air. "It's not safe here," he said, "let's talk outside." Truth was, it was completely safe in that bar, and Charon knew the patrons wouldn't attack him, they knew better than that. Charon just needed out. It had been so motherfucking long.  
  
The blonde nodded and Charon led her out of the dingy bar and out of the city, opening the large, dusty doors, into the night.

The first thing Charon looked at was the stars. They blinked down at him through the murky black of the night sky, a welcome sight after months underground. Charon took a big, deep breath, and found that the air smelled good. Almost dangerously like freedom.

He turned to the little blonde who stood next to him, and he watched her as she gnawed on those damned fingernails like a nervous freak. 'What a strange little thing,' he thought to himself.

She felt his gaze and lifted her head, her pretty face dusted with moonlight. She was shivering slightly and Charon frowned. He wanted to smack her, he wanted to choke her, he wanted to slam her body against the wall and leave her there, broken and dying. He _hated_ her, but he _didn't_. It wasn't her fault, but Charon couldn't be angry at ghosts.

She spoke first.

"I'm Catherine," she said, smiling lightly at him, "but everyone calls me Cate."

"Charon," he replied gruffly.

Cate smiled a real smile.

Charon was _lost._

"You don't have to stay, ya know?" She said, "No one deserves to be a slave."

Charon shook his head, "I'm staying."

Cate scoffed and turned to fully face him. "I'm not gonna lie Charon, I do need help. If it weren't for you, I'd probably have to be scraped outta that carpet there," she jutted her thumb back at The Underworld, "but I don't want a slave. So, that's not what you are. I'm gonna pay you-"

"No-"

Cate held up a finger, shushing the giant ghoul. "I will pay you, half my loot to be exact, and in return you protect me. Purely business. Shake on it?" Cate held out her hand, eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

Charon shook. "Deal."

And so, the beautiful Cate and her new partner walked into the inky blackness of the wastes, Cate with her mission, and Charon with a new purpose.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this seems a bit of ooc but i figured we don't know what is going on charon's head and he's been through a lot so i have a headcanon that he is more perceptive then he seems, he just keeps it to himself.
> 
> kudos and comments keep me going! thanks for reading.


	2. Two: Old and New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cate and Charon travel to Megaton.

  
Charon decided he hated Megaton.

They hadn't even entered, but the grueling walk had left the big ghoul jaded and spiteful. Charon still didn't know why he and Cate were anywhere near this city, and despite Cate nearly chewing his ear off on the walk over, she had kept quiet about her plans. Not that Charon minded, it wasn't his place to know, but that didn't make him any less annoyed.

Charon found that his new employer was strange. Though, that could be because she was a vault dweller.

After the Ahzrukhal incident, Cate had traded her skin-tight dress for an old, bunchy jumpsuit with the numbers "101" sewn on the back. Obviously from some sort of vault. She looked almost out of place wearing it, the brilliant blue was a stark contrast to the color of dead around them, she looked like a walking, talking bobblehead. The thing that amused Charon the most though, was the stray pieces of armor the smoothskin had sewed into the seams of the jumpsuit as if those would protect her from any real danger. Charon had made a note to get her some real armor.

Cate also lacked any basic survival skills, and how she'd made it this far baffled Charon. For one, all she fucking did was talk, and if she wasn't chewing Charon's ear off, she was singing along loudly to the radio on the Pip-Boy strapped to her wrist. It was almost like the girl forgot she was walking in the open, where any trigger-happy raider or hungry dog would find her easy prey. Charon was nearly surprised they made it to the damned city in the first place.

The city looked messy, surrounded by tall scrap walls, and old airforce plane parts were nestled in different areas of the wall, reminding Charon of some doomsday cartoon he'd watch as a boy. It looked sturdy though, maintained too, somewhere he could relax a bit and not have to worry about a fucking mole rat making a stump where his arm used to be. So, maybe he didn't hate it as much as he thought.

As the duo approached the entrance, Cate switched off her Pip-Boy and waved happily at an old Protectron, who beeped happily in return. "Welcome to Megaton. The bomb is perfectly safe. We promise," the robot chirped out, automated voice heavy with a southern drawl.

"Of course deputy," Cate replied, saluting him playfully before laughing loudly.

Charon found he quite liked her laugh. It was sweet and airy.

The two entered the city, and Cate holstered her pistol, gesturing for Charon to do the same. Charon hesitantly complied, no matter how safe it seemed, Megaton was still strange and new, and a holstered gun was harder to reach if Charon needed to shoot quickly. He did what he was told to anyways, though it wasn't like he had much of a choice.

Charon was taken from his thoughts when a tall man approached Cate, and Charon's fingers brushed lightly against his shotgun, the cool metal at his fingertips. The man was dark and sported a dusty cowboy hat on his head, including a star to match on his chest. Charon would've laughed at the tacky costume if he weren't so wary.  
  
Charon only relaxed when Cate smiled friendly at the strange man.

"Simms!" Cate exclaimed.

"Cate," Simms replied, tipping his hat, "Welcome back, find what you were looking for?"

Cate lifted up her bag, shaking it roughly. The caps in there rattled loudly. "Yup, Moriarty should be satisfied."

Simms frowned at that, "Moriarty's never satisfied, you should be careful 'round him."

Cate shook her head, "Nah, me and the old man have an understanding, trust me."

Simms sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "Whatever you say, Miss Cate. Just, be careful who you trust," The man looked right at Charon then, eyes squinted and hateful, "not everyone is as nice as they may seem." Then, He tipped his hat and left.

Charon watched as he exited from sight and turned to Cate.

"C' mon big guy," she said, smiling that  _damned_  smile.

Cate led Charon up some dingy, metal stairs, and up to a scrappy building with the words "Moriarty's Bar" sloppily painted on a sign out front. Cate paused at the door turning to the ghoul.

"I have some business to do so try to stay cool," she said, reaching for the handle, "if things go south, let me handle it. The last thing I need is you scaring poor Moriarty to death and ruining the whole thing."

Charon nodded slowly, even though he hated the idea. Leaving his employer alone with a strange person wasn't particularly his favorite past time, but he complied, as he always did.

Cate opened the door and they both walked inside.

The bar was nicer than Ahzrukhal's. It was clean for one, and though it reeked of booze and cigarettes, that was a hell of a lot better than ghoul. There were a lot of smoothskins, each one lounging around the bar, or tables, chatting and laughing to each other. Some had girls on their laps, the others nursed stale bottles of beer.

What did surprise Charon was the ghoul manning the bar. Ghouls weren't usually welcome in "civilized" cities, but this one looked like he was tolerated her, maybe even welcome. Then again, judging by the bruised skin, maybe he wasn't.

The strange ghoul was smacking a radio when Cate approached, his naked brow furrowed in frustration. He only looked up when Cate giggled quietly. Charon got a good look at his face then.  _Gob._  
Gob was quite the familiar face, seeing as he was Carol's-one of the restaurant owners in The Underworld-kid. Well, more or less. He had run off a while ago, leaving poor Carol a worried mess. Who knew he'd end up here?

"Still can't get the thing to work, Gob?" Charon heard his employer chirp.

The ghoul, Gob, smiled brightly at the girl, his foggy eyes lighting up. "Well, I'll be damned, our little vault princess returns!"

Cate laughed at that, her eyes flickering over to where Charon watched. Gob looked at Charon as well, rotten face contorting to a frown. He recognized Charon alright.

"And who's this?" Gob asked after a few beats. Charon didn't like his tone. Gob knew who he was, why would he pretend like he didn't? People, or well, ghouls were way too fucking confusing, Charon hated it. He hated not being able to understand the motives or thoughts of normal people.  
  
"That's Charon," Cate said whilst handing Gob six caps, "he's helping me out with my 'mission.'" Gob nodded slowly, handing Cate two bottles of beer. The ghoul eyed Charon again before turning back to the radio, fiddling with the knobs.

"Moriarty's in the back," Gob said, "But I guess you already know that."

Cate nodded.

She handed Charon a bottle of beer, and he took a sip, and it was fucking rancid. It was nothing like he used to remember, it burnt on it's way down, kind of like a strong whiskey, and had a disgusting tang to it. Cate seemed to enjoy it though, so he kept drinking, choking down the liquid to the best of his ability.

Cate took a few more sips and set her beer on the bar, letting out a short puff of air. "I'm gonna head in and see Moriarty," she sighed, "You just wait out here." Charon scowled at that, he hated the idea. Cate just smiled though, lips curving up, dimples pressing into her cheeks, and Charon knew he had no option but to comply. "I'll be fine, big guy, I'll make it up to you. How 'bout you see if Nova can get us rooms? Just don't ask for her "deluxe package," trust me."

Charon nodded, and Cate smiled, brushing her hands against his arm. All he could do was watch as she disappeared into the back room, a bundle of caps disappearing with her. Charon didn't like it, not knowing what Cate was doing, what she needed. He knew it wasn't his place, but it still worried him watching her meet with a man he'd never met. For all Charon knew this Moriarty character was waiting behind this door, ready to shoot Cate in her head.

Still, he complied, as he always did and always will. He even got the room from Nova, who looked sick when he approached her. He assumed she didn't do ghouls. Not that he blamed her.

After that, he waited, out of place and unnerving in that bar full of smoothskins. He leaned against the wall and watched the door his mistress entered with wary eyes. Cate has been quiet about her plans, and even quieter about her past and Charon couldn't help from being curious. What could this little girl have to do that's so important she was willing to cheat and rob for information? Who was she looking for?

Charon figured she was keeping herself reserved for a good reason, but that didn't diminish Charon's interest.

Cate was only gone for a few minutes, and she returned with a smile that nearly blinded her. Good news, huh? She hurried to Charon, a bounce in her step, and hope in her eyes.

"Everything go smoothly out here, big guy? You get the room?" She asked.

Charon nodded.

"Good, c' mon I'm exhausted."

Charon followed like he always did. They went up some rickety stairs into a small room. It was dusty and smelled faintly of blood and stimpacks, but it was a nice enough place to rest for the night. The room had a small bed pushed against a wall in the middle of the room and a faded armchair in a corner next to a metal desk. It was dimly lit, with a flickering light bulb and a couple of candles that were on their last wick.

Cate crossed to the bed, dropping her bag and flopping onto it, sighing and stretching out on it like a cat. Her blonde hair came loose from its plait, splaying out on the furniture, curls so perfect without mats or knots that Charon could almost believe it was a wig. She looked angelic in that lighting, shadows dancing deliciously over her pale face, over the curve of her nose, sliding down to her pouty lips. He wanted to run his fingers over them-

Charon caught himself, ripping his eyes away from her.

She sat up then, tucking strands of her hair behind her ear. "You should sleep," she said suddenly, "You can have the bed, you deserve it."

She went to get up, but he stopped her, grabbing her arm gently. "No." He said frankly, nudging her back onto the bed. "I'll take the chair."

Cate shrugged, falling back onto the bed. "Whatever you say big guy, you can't say I didn't try." She laughed at that, winking at Charon.

She stood up and started to unzip her vault suit, but stopped and looked at Charon sheepishly. She motioned for him to turn around and he did. He thought that was a bit childish, something a teenager would do, but then again, she was a teenager, wasn't she. He felt ashamed then. This girl wanted, no, needed his help, and he had the audacity to look at her with prying eyes. He felt gross. Like Ahzukrhal.

"Okay." Cate signaled.

Charon turned around, and Cate was buried under the covers of the bed, her eyes heavy. Her folded jumpsuit and Pip-Boy rested on the nightstand.

Charon turned off the light and blew out the candles, moving to his chair, where he proceeded to get comfortable, and just as he started to drift off, Cate's small voice broke through the silence.

"Goodnight."

"Night," he whispered back.

 


	3. Three: The End of The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter kind of sucks sorry)
> 
> Charon and Cate attempt to make their way to Galaxy News Radio, but they stumble across a raider camp on their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and constructive criticisms keep me going

     Cate insisted on leaving early, which Charon didn’t mind much. He was never a good sleeper, so he was up much earlier than Cate had been. 

     She shimmied out of bed, too tired to realize that she was half-naked in front of her ghoul-slave. Charon tried to look away, he really did.

     She stretched, arms pointed up to the ceiling, the muscles in her stomach flexing. If Charon had working skin he was almost certain he’d be blushing.

     Charon squirmed in his seat, ripping his eyes away from his employer when he felt his pants become tight. Nothing more mortifying then popping a boner in front of a pretty girl, especially when you’re an irradiated corpse and she's a near perfect pre-war gem.

     Cate shimmied her Vault-Suit on and lazily tied her hair up into a bun, not having enough energy to braid it, and slipped her bag onto her shoulders, gesturing for Charon to follow her.

     The pair exited the bar and made their way into the city. The sun was starting to rise and the sky was a warm orange color. The clouds were pink and swirling, like cotton candy, a treat Charon remembered fondly from his days as a child. 

     Finally, they were out of Megaton and Cate began to walk, her eyes flickering to the map on her Pip-Boy every now and then.

     Charon watched the sunrise as they walked, one ear trained on any possible threats in the wastes, the other listening to the slow music that played from Cate's Pip-Boy. He'd come to like music after hearing it over and over again at the bar, it reminded him of home, reminded him of people from a long time ago.

     Cate's head bobbed along to the music. She kept looking at him and smiling, those dimples pressed into her pink cheeks. She reminded him of his old life too, she was just so unlike the wasteland. She was so trusting and kind and naive and it scared the shit out of Charon. How could Cate expect to survive with that kind of attitude? It wasn't sensical.

     Still, she kept on keeping on, looking like a prewar jewel.  
  
     They were walking on some old highways that were still mostly intact, which was a rare thing nowadays. Most highways had been eaten away by the weather or just concrete decaying. The duo had to watch their steps as they walked, careful not to fall through a hidden gap or unstable floor.

     The old highways seemed to stretch on forever, their crumbled beams and cracked foundations blurring into the horizon. Charon remembered cars, how he used to whine and kick his father’s seat during long car rides, a bratty, bored kid. He mourned then, mourned his old self. The kid who never learned how to drive never had his first kiss never got to grow up. His childhood was robbed, but not from nukes or radiation, but by his own flesh and blood. His own fucking mother.

     He decided to stop thinking about that. What good would it do? His mother was dead, probably seared into some sidewalk back in Jersey, a nuclear shadow of an old prewar whore. 

     Charon was torn from his thoughts when the music abruptly stopped with a click. He looked at Cate, whose eyes were trained on something in front of her. She looked pale, blonde eyebrows furrowed. Charon turned to where she was looking, focusing on the cause of her distress.

     A raider camp. 

     They were far enough to not be noticed but close enough that they could hear the hooting and cheering coming from the camp. They were probably celebrating a raid, drunk and drugged into a jet-fueled stupor, Charon figured they wouldn’t be that hard to move around. Still, Charon clutched his gun tightly, eyes trained on his mistress.

     She seemed to have the same idea, turning to walk to the left of the camp, staying eerily quiet.

     Then, a scream shattered through the air, blood-curdling and full of desperation. A woman, probably stolen from a settlement. Charon felt pity for her, but kept walking, until he realized Cate was no longer walking with him.

     He turned to see her sprinting towards the camp, her boots kicking up sand and dirt as she ran. 

     “Cate!” Charon roared, chasing after her, but she was too far, he had noticed too late. She disappeared into the camp, pressed tightly against one of the junk walls the raiders had built into the highway. Charon felt his heart sink. She was fucking stupid, if they found her she’d end up just like that woman. Maybe even worse, a pretty girl like her would be torn up by those animals.

     So he followed her, crouched against the walls of the shack. He couldn’t see her anymore and his heart was pounding in his chest. Charon was built for this, mutated and morphed for battle, but Cate wasn’t. And yet, she ran into this camp without a second thought, like she was fucking suicidal, and if he didn’t find her soon, she was dead meat.

     He followed the noises of screams and hoots, staying crouched low in the shadows until he reached an opening where the raiders were celebrating. That’s when he saw her, concealed behind a door, halfway in a room, watching the screaming woman be tossed around. The woman was bloody, with hair torn from her head and tear streaks staining her face. She had a knife lodged into her shoulder, the blade buried handle deep and twisted. She was sobbing.

     He looked back to his mistress who watched in horror, her eyes scanning the scene as she thought. Suddenly, a man was behind her, and before Charon could warn her, she was yanked into the darkness.

     He chased after her, slamming into the room, and aimed his gun at the bundle that writhed on the floor. He watched as Cate and the raider wrestled, unable to get a clear shot, his ears ringing with fear.

     Suddenly, a flash of silver, a yelp of pain, and Cate pushed the man off of her. He gurgled, squirming in the floor, clutching desperately at his neck where Cate had lodged the knife.

     Cate watched until he stopped moving, and turned to Charon, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She was shaking, and in the darkness, Charon could see the dark look on her face, something he’d never seen before. She knelt down and wrenched the knife out of the man's neck with an unsettling squish. She wiped it on the pant of her jumpsuit, trailing crimson down her thigh. 

     Cate took a few deep breaths and turned back to the door. “C’ mon, Charon.” She said. He followed, like always

     Cate slammed the door open, and before Charon could stop her, her rusty pistol was firing off in every direction, the sound bouncing off the walls of the camp. Charon reacted quickly, ripping his shotgun off his back, and aiming it at the filthy raiders that surrounded them.

     Charon counted as he shot them. One. Two. Three. Four. And as the last one after him went down, he went to Cate. She was like a madwoman, not aiming for a precise kill, merely shooting wildly. She hit each raider though, and each went down with five or four bullets in their bodies. Charon couldn’t help but wonder where she learned to shoot so well.

     He couldn't help but watch her in all her fury, gone was the little girl who'd shook behind him at the sight of Ahz. It was the first time he'd seen her  _angry_  and he reminded himself to never get on her bad side. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

      Suddenly, another gunshot rang through Charon's ears, closer than Cate's. Close enough it made his ears ring. Charon didn't even realize his fate until Cate shrieked.

      Charon was shot.

      Bang!

      Another one, straight through his back.

     Cate shot the raider in the head, all fury gone from her eyes, replaced by terror. Charon felt himself fall.

     “Shit! Charon, stay awake!”

     She grabbed him, her skin so warm and soft against his ruined one, her hand pressed into one of the bullet wounds. He knew he wouldn’t die, Charon wasn’t even sure he could die, thanks to his modifications. But, damn could he feel pain. And the white-hot bullets searing in his skin now hurt like shit. 

      His vision blurred, and Cate pulled him flush to her body, her gun aiming at the leftover raiders. He watched her as his vision blacked, her pretty nose and eyes, and plump lips and rosy cheeks. And he realized something then, something strange and foreign.

     He wanted to kiss her. Bad.

 

 

     ***

 

 

    It was dark out when Charon woke up.

     His head hurt like a motherfucker, and so did his abdomen. He ran his hands down his torso and felt the rough gauze that wrapped its way over it, old blood stained on the front of it. Fuck.

     He got himself shot like a fucking idiot. He put Cate in danger because his dick decided to play boss for once, hell Cate could be fucking dead for all he knew.  
  
     With that thought, Charon shot up from where he lay, momentarily forgetting his wounds. Big mistake. He cried out, clutching his side as he felt the stitches tear from his ruined skin, reopening the wound.

     Then, Charon noticed Cate clambering over to him, woken up from where she slept opposite of him by his loud scream. She nearly ripped the blanket on him away, and her lithe fingers pressed roughly into his wound, making him hiss.

     "You fucking idiot," Cate scolded, her big, blue eyes scanning his face, "You ripped your stitches!"

     "Sorry," He grunted out as she removed the gauze, her hands now wet with his blood. She turned away from him, opening her bag swiftly and removing a rag and some Med-X.

     She thrust the Med-X at him, shaking the bottle.

     He shook his head. "For you," He said simply, gesturing to the scrapes and cuts around her face and body, "I don't need it, Mistress."

     "Bullshit!" She exclaimed, unscrewing the top and basically shoving the pill into his ruined lips, staring at him until he swallowed. "Good," she said, pulling out some thread and needle and looked up at him, making him suck in a shallow breath, "This is gonna hurt."

     She started to sew him up, letting out a couple of "sorries" every time he flinched. He stayed quiet though, watching her as she worked. Her hands moved swiftly and carefully, mindful of what she was doing but she held the confidence of someone who knew what she was doing.

     Cate seemed to read his mind because she began to speak. "Daddy taught me this," she said, "He was the Vault doctor, always thought I'd follow in his footsteps one day." She laughed bitterly before biting the thread, finishing her stitches. "Look where that got me."

     She injected him with a Stim, watching the skin around the wound begin to heal slowly.

     Cate was suddenly not looking at Charon anymore, instead at a body on the floor. It was the woman and through the flickering light of the campfire, Charon could see that Cate had put the woman's arms in a cross across her chest, something he hadn't seen since before the war.

     "She didn't make it," Cate sniffed, "I-I tried, but-" Then she started to cry, her shoulders shaking as she rubbed at her face. "I-I'm sorry, I'm such a baby-"

     "I'm prewar, ya know?" Charon said suddenly, cutting Cate off.

     Cate looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. He had never spoken on his volition like that. To be true, Charon didn't know what compelled him to tell some of his stories, but he wanted her to stop crying. It wasn't her fault that the woman died, but she'd never believed him. She was so caring.

    "Yeah?"

     "Yeah. I had a mama and a sister, her name was May. I don't remember very much, but I know I loved them." He said.

     Cate began to scoot towards him, still crying, but softer now. "Tell me more? Please?"

     Charon could've smiled.

     "Everything was clean, kind of like your Vault," Cate smiled at that and leaned her head on Charon's hard shoulder, "The trees were so green, and the grass was too, and there were people everywhere. And cars, people drove those, it was much faster than walking."

     "Did you ever drive a car?" Cate asked, looking up at him.

     He shook his head, "I never got the chance."

     Cate opened her mouth to ask, but Charon interrupted her. "There were no raiders or giant bugs, everything was a lot more peaceful. But everyone was still so greedy and power-hungry. I guess people never learn, huh?"

     Charon looked down at Cate to find her sleeping, head rested on his shoulder. He smiled and watched the sky and all its stars.


	4. Four: Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon and Cate share a sweet moment after a close call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!
> 
> Constructive criticism greatly appreciated! Comments keep me going ; - )

     Charon woke early, the sun barely rising over the brown horizon. It was quiet apart from the occasional bird call or howl of a feral dog somewhere off in the wastes. He liked it when everything was quiet and nice, because Charon could close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere more familiar. Charon had been alive for almost two centuries, and he didn’t miss his old home any less than he had the day he left.

      It wasn’t until she squirmed that Charon realized Cate was pressed tightly to his side, a realization that made him forget all about his previous thoughts.

     She had an arm draped over his torso, and the rest of her body was smashed against his side, curled up like a cat. Her curls were messy, flying this way and that, and it was the first time Charon realized how long her hair was. It traveled down to her hips, and Charon could have sworn she’d never cut it before in her life. 

     Her face was angelic, so soft and child-like as she slept, and Charon noticed some freckles that certainly weren’t there before. A smile cracked it’s way across his ruined face.

     He got up then, gently as to not wake his Mistress. Charon started to pack up the camp, stamping out the last embers of the campfire and shoving Cate’s belongings into his pack. He knew that she’d want to leave as soon as she woke up, the girl seemed determined to make her way to Galaxy News Radio as soon as possible. It still bothered him that he was following Cate blindly through the wastes, with no knowledge of what she was looking for.

     Charon felt at his side for the wound, finding it mostly healed up, probably for the Stimpack she demanded he use. He huffed, unraveling the bandages and tossing them off to the side. He felt his cheeks (or whatever was left of them) heat up at the thought of Cate pressing her fingers into his bare skin and muscle. Even if it was more medical purposes, Charon couldn’t help the heat that rose in his chest at the thought of her.

      Charon took a deep breath when he heard the sleeping bag behind him rustle and a small sigh. He turned to watch as Cate woke up. She stretched, smiling when she caught his eye. She peeled her messy hair to the back of her head, intertwining pieces into a braid so quickly that Charon almost didn’t see her do it.

     “Are we ready to go then?” She asked, standing up and slipping her worn boots on to her feet.

     Charon nodded, slipping his bag on to his shoulders, and holding out her pack. She took it from him, the skin of her hand brushing against his. Her cheeks turned pink then, and Charon’s brow bone furrowed as she looked away, wiping at her face.

      Cate cleared her throat and began to walk, and Charon followed, like always.

      It was a short walk to the city, a little under an hour but with the pace Cate was walking, Charon figured they would make it quicker than that.

     The blonde switched on her Pip-Boy, the husky voice of Three-Dog drifted into the morning air. He went on about “the good fight” for a little bit before it went back to the music. It was a slow tune, and Charon listened intently, feeling himself relax slightly. He always did like music.

     “Do you think he’ll help us?” Cate asked suddenly.

     “Hmm?”

     “Three-Dog,” she looked at him then, “do you think he’ll ask for something? Moriarty was persistent that I give him caps, or a... you know what? Nermind.”

      She stopped then, walking a bit quicker this time. Her face was flushed and she brought her fingers up to her lips, biting down on her nails quickly. Cate had that habit, Charon thought it was quite girlish. And maybe even cute at times.

     “I think he’ll ask for something,” Charon responded, “Giving out free help gets you dead, that’s not a risk people take.”

     Care frowned. “Shouldn’t people want to help, though?” She asked, “I mean, back in the vault if someone needed help, we all chipped in.”

     Charon laughed, a real booming, rough laugh that visibly shocked Cate. She had never heard him laugh before. “You have a strange view of the world, Cate,” Charon said, hoisting the bag higher up on his shoulder. “People couldn’t give two shits about you out here.” Charon all the sudden turned serious, the smile fading from his face. “You don’t trust no one but me, got it? I’ll protect you, but I can’t promise that of other people.”

     Cate nodded, batting her baby-blue eyes, and Charon’s mouth went dry.  She was so beautiful, and naive, and trusting. He couldn’t bare to imagine what would happen if she was out here all alone without him, the wasteland would chew her up and spit her out. 

      Charon spotted something on the horizon, and from the look on Cate’s face, she noticed it too. The city. The skyscrapers loomed over them like giants, some leaning, almost like they would topple over any minute. 

      Charon grew up in D.C, in some small two bedroom apartment that could never seem to stay clean. Charon could still remember the smell, a mix of cigarettes and whatever dinner his mother had made the previous night. He had a different name then, but what it was, he couldn’t tell. It was as dead as his old life was.

 The duo entered the city, and Charon unholstered his gun, squeezing it tightly with his fingers. The city was dangerous, too dangerous to not be always alert. Cate didn’t seem to catch the memo though, as her rusty pistol remained strapped to her side, bouncing as she waltzed along. Charon felt his mind wander at the sight of her hips swaying in front of him.

The thought was over as fast as it began when Charon heard a familiar low growl in an alley near them. He could see the glowing eyes of a feral gazing at them, it’s mouth hanging open to expel what was probably gallons of radiated drool.

It was hunched over, blinking lazily at Charon. It hadn’t noticed Cate, good.

Cate noticed it though, and as she went to approach it, Charon grabbed her arm roughly, tight enough to bruise her milky skin. She let out a yelp at the force, the sound echoing through the silent city, and Charon watched as ten other glowing eyes began to open, groaning and gurgling as they began their decent upon Cate. They wouldn’t touch Charon, but they would rip his Mistress to shreds.

Cate shook her arm out of his grip, shakily grabbing for her pistol as the ferals began to run.

There were too many, Charon couldn’t kill them all quick enough. Cate would die.

Charon threw his own gun to the ground, and without thinking, scooped Cate up into his arms, ignoring the squeal of shock that she let out. He dug his hands into his side, tearing at the stitches Cate had delicately woven only hours before. He let out an growl at the pain, but powered through, only stopping when his hand became wet with blood.

He turned to Cate, who was wiggling in his arms, her big eyes wide with confusion. He took his hand and smeared the blood down her face, clamping a hand over her mouth when she tried to scream. He prayed it would be enough.

Charon watched as the ferals slowed, sniffing the air around Charon. Charon puffed up, squeezing the squirming girl tighter to his chest.

The ferals looked at Charon, empty eyes almost accusatory, like they knew he was protecting a smoothskin. There was a beat, and Cate stopped wiggling.

The ferals turned, slumping away back into the ally, groaning as they went, mad that their meal had made an escape.

Charon made sure they were truly gone before he let go of Cate’s mouth. She gasped up at him, face red and eyes full of confusion and disgust. Charon’s whole body slumped and he let Cate go, watching as she scampered away. Great, now she thought he was disgusting.

“What the fuck!” She yelped, wiping at her face where the dried streak of blood was.

“There were too many,” Charon said, pressing into his wound, “They would have ripped you to shreds.”

“I... don’t understand. How did you-?”

“I’m a ghoul,” Charon said, hissing as he stood up, trying to ignore the burning in his side, “They won’t harm me. I don’t know why, but they don’t. I panicked, I knew that if you smelled like me, that they wouldn’t touch you.”

There was a beat.

She stopped scrubbing. “Oh.”

She looked at him, something unfamiliar in her eyes. Her pink lips stretched into a smile, dimples pressing into her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Charon almost smiled back. Almost.

He let out a grunt as he helped her up, his touch on her hand lingering much longer than it should. She was too nice to him. He should have been slapped, or starved for touching her alone, let alone tainting her with his blood. He’d never *touched* her before. It was always of her own accord when they touched, and Charon was afraid she would be disgusted.

But she wasn’t. She simply got up, dusted off her vault suit, and pressed a hand into his side. He was hoping that his training would allow his face to remain emotionless, despite the thumping in his chest. Her fingers were so soft against the rough patches of his skin where his shirt was ripped.

Cate reached into her pack, unzipping it and taking out another Stimpack, stabbing it into him. She smiled up at him as the skin began to meld over his ripped skin, scabbing it over almost immediately. “Good as new,” She chirped, blowing at a strand of pale hair that had came loose from her braid. “Thank you, again.”

     He frowned, and without thinking, he reached up to tuck it behind her ear. The strand was soft on his fingertips. 

Cate gasped.

Charon yanked his hand back like something burned him, the moment of vulnerability gone with a flash. The man melted into the cracks of the pavement, and the hardened ghoul-soldier took his place. He wasn’t Cate’s lover, wasn’t worthy of her gaze or her kind thoughts, no matter how much he wished he was, he wouldn’t be.

He was a cold hard killer that was programmed to protect his owner. That’s all he was, her protecter. And he was fine with that.

Charon ignored the look of hurt that flashed over Cate’s face, and turned roughly, and began walking again.

     “Ah- yeah, we should, uh, get going.” She said, falling into step with him. She looked at him every now and again, like she was willing him to look back, but he didn’t. He kept his eyes trained forward to their destination. 

     He couldn’t ignore her for long though, as she grabbed his arm. “Look at me,” she said, more of a request than an order, but Charon did as she asked. “What’s wrong?”

     Charon began to shake his head, when he heard the cock of a gun coming from behind him.

 

         

     


End file.
